Almost Innocent Read Online Free

in the basin of hot water and dabbing at her face.
    “For heaven’s sake, child, you cannot expect to get rid of the dirt in such dainty fashion!” Instead of answering the question, Elinor took the cloth impatiently and scrubbed the child’s face. “Now take off that old smock and put this on.”
    The gown she held out was of heavy ceremonial velvet. Magdalen’s nose wrinkled in disgust. She detested the material, finding it weighty and cumbersome and itchily hot. But she said nothing, merely unfastened the simple girdle of her orange smock and pulled it over her head.
    Elinor softened her tone. “See how pretty you will look. Crimson suits you well, and you may wear the silver brocade cap.”
    “Are the visitors come from the king?” Magdalen ventured again, standing still as the bodice of the gown was laced and its girdle of braided crimson and silver silk fastened at her waist.
    “That is your father’s business,” her aunt told her a little sharply. “He will tell you what he deems it meet that you should know.”
    Magdalen’s lips pursed at this, but since it was entirely true and always had been, she saw little point in inviting further reproof by pursuing that line of questioning. “Will my father order a grand feast for them?”
    “Yes, indeed, and I must go to the kitchens and see that all is well,” Elinor said, suddenly distracted. “Come now, we will go to the great hall and you may make your reverence. Then you may sit quietly in my parlor until you are sent for again.”
    The latter aspect of this plan failed to appeal to the Lady Magdalen, but, mindful of the morning’s lesson, she kept her objections to herself and endured her aunt’s intent examination with downcast eyes.
    “There, you will do.” Elinor pronounced herself satisfied after one final adjustment to the close-fitting cap of silver brocade. “Let us make haste.”
    Magdalen followed her aunt down the passage to the stone stairs leading to the hall. Lord Bellair and his visitors stood around the great fireplace, pewter goblets in hand. The knights’ attendants were clustered beyond the circle of warmth, watchful lest they miss a summons.
    “Ah, sirs, may I present my sister, the Lady Elinor, and my daughter, Magdalen.” Lord Bellair had been watching for them and immediately stepped forward as the two came down the stairs.
    Magdalen dutifully made her reverence to the seven knights, all of whom wore the red rose of Lancaster emblazoned on their surcotes; but the girl had eyes for only one of the visitors, a man younger, it seemed, than the others, for all that they were presented as his vassals.He was a giant of a man, above six feet tall, and broad. He was clean shaven, and his hair hung in thick red-gold waves to the sable collar of his blue and silver surcote. Bright blue eyes beneath heavy brows examined the child with more than cursory interest. Forgetting decorum, Magdalen returned the scrutiny from her own clear gray eyes and privately decided that he was a most handsome lord.
    Guy de Gervais, for so the lord was named, suddenly laughed and chucked her beneath the chin. “She is well made, my Lord Bellair, straight as a sapling, and I dare swear the soul within is as straight, if one may judge by her eyes.” His voice was surprisingly soft, coming from such a massive frame.
    Lord Bellair inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I believe it to be so, my lord. But Father Clement will not always agree.”
    Magdalen flushed slightly at this reference to her
bête noir
, the castle chaplain whose care for the souls of all within was on occasion overly zealous. Since he supervised the girl’s studies, she had suffered on more than one occasion from his enthusiasm.
    Lord de Gervais smiled reassuringly. “Are you in mischief on occasion, little maid?”
    Magdalen dropped her eyes in embarrassment, aware that this apparently well-meaning examination had made her the center of attention in the great hall.
    He laughed